


Star Wars Universe Imagines (SFW)

by drpeppapigphd



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Imagine Collection, Imagines, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Romance, SO FLUFFY, Siths, Star Wars - Freeform, The Force, jedis, sfw, shorttakes, sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28258473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drpeppapigphd/pseuds/drpeppapigphd
Summary: Hi, darlings. Xx I’ve written a handful or so of these in the last year and haven’t been posting them because I wasn’t sure if there would be an audience for that, but something about my lack of motivation to write lately has led me back to them. Leave me a comment and let me know that you like them, or comment your own request. You can also find the info to contact me on my profile—just send me whatever you’d like to see and I’ll try to get to it. I’m also planning on creating a NSFW collection eventually, as well as Outlander and GoT collections. If there’s anything else you’d like to read, I’m open to your suggestions as well. In the meantime, stay well, stay safe, read on. <3 xx cheers, Peppa. Xx
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Everyone/Reader, Kylo Ren/Reader, Mandolorian/Reader - Relationship, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader, Star Wars Characters - Relationship
Kudos: 23





	1. Obi-Wan/Reader

You could never have anticipated that becoming a padawan would lead you to the very thing you were not supposed to have, apart from an affinity for darkness: love. And while you might have guessed that there would be a cute fellow-padawan-in-training here and there, your Master—Obi-Wan—was more than just “cute.” He was handsome, sharp, kind... and you spent every moment with him struggling to suppress your adoring thoughts. You knew that at some point they would become too much to hide and you fought desperately not to project them through the Force... unsuccessfully, of course. 

“I’ve sensed a unsettled disturbance in you for some weeks now, Y/N,” he confessed one night as you were both meditating on the balcony of your temporary lodging in Naboo. 

You nearly gave him another lousy excuse like those that you had been giving him every other night for the past 3 weeks when he asked if you were alright. But you felt like the truth would eventually crawl its way up your throat and you were determined tell him with some control to save yourself from the embarrassment of accidentally projecting everything you had bottled up. 

“I fear that I’ve acted against the Jedi Code, Master.” You said it with your eyes clenched shut as you focused on hovering a few inches off of the ground in your lotus pose, but you could still hear his body make contact with the tiled floor, emphasized with a light gasp that escaped his lips. 

“Tell me what has happened and perhaps I can help you fix it.” 

You grimaced, knowing that it would be difficult to tell him, and slowly lowered to the ground yourself. He had watched you become everything that he had taught you to be—except for your inability to detach yourself from him or your feelings for him. Opening your eyes slowly, and pivoting to face him, you steadied yourself on clammy palms. 

“You can’t fix it, Obi-Wan... I’d like to think that you can fix everything,” you chuckled, “but this is all on me. Please don’t hate me for it—I don’t expect you to understand.” Your cheeks flushed as he watched you with concern. You hated disappointing him, but he had to know. “I have not been totally honest with you about my feelings... but,” your eyes darted away from his intense stare; “I have loved you since the moment that I met you, Obi-Wan. And I can’t swear an oath that I don’t mean... it would be a lie to say that I will live unattached for the rest of my life, as long as there’s you. And I can’t ask you to pretend that everything is normal, knowing this now.” You moved to get off of the floor and pack your things, but a familiar, gentle hand gripped your arm. 

“Y/N, if I hadn’t already sworn that oath years ago, then there would be no question whether or not I would be yours,” Obi-Wan assured you. “Stay. We’ll figure this out.” 


	2. Kylo Ren/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo catches you singing.

You had served on Lord Commander Ren’s ship as a maid for months, yet you had never been in the same room. One day when you were making his bed as you always did, you felt the urge to sing. You loved to sing, and even considered a career in it once or twice—but being a cantina singer never really seemed like a lucrative enough career to support yourself. 

Halfway through one of your favorite songs, you reached for a pillow to place it back on the bed when you saw him in the doorway. Kylo Ren was standing there, helmetless, with dark wisps of hair framing his angular face. You let out a gasp, dropping the pillow, and bowing to the man who was taking up almost the entire doorframe. 

“Lord Commander, s-sir...” you stuttered, trying to return to a normal breathing pattern so he wouldn’t think that a total idiot was changing his sheets. 

“I did not mean to startle you...” he paused, waiting for you to tell him your name. You did, and he nodded curtly. “I’m not usually one for music, Y/N... but your singing...”—he shifted his weight to his other foot and looked at anything but you—“I didn’t mind.” 

Before you could thank him for the shocking compliment, he had already stormed off to sulk in some other part of his chambers. 


	3. Mando/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Mando moment.

You hiss as Mando dabs at a cut on your forehead with a bacta pad. 

“I’m going to have to stitch this up...” he explains, “the Kid got you pretty good, didn’t he,” he grumbled, casting a disapproving look at The Child who wiggles his massive green ears ever so slightly in response. 

“He didn’t mean to, we were playing... he just doesn’t know his own strength yet,” you snicker, thinking about how many times he had accidentally injured you since you agreed to be Din’s mechanic. 

“Well, that still doesn’t mean you deserve to be beat up around the clock,” Mando grumbles lowly as he threads a needle. His helmet is only inches away from your face as he begins to stitch the gash just above your eyebrow. He uses his other hand to cradle your face and does so with a surprising gentleness. Once he finishes, his hand lingers just a little to long on your cheek as a gloved thumb smooths your eyebrow down. “Good as new,” he says softly, before clearing his throat and awkwardly running off to the cockpit. 


	4. Cara Dune/Reader

“I’ve never seen him like this, Karga”—you hear Cara say to Greef Karga as you approach them at the corner table in the back of a hazy cantina on Navarro. “Ah, speak of the devil,” she chides with a smirk. You cock your head as if to ask what she means, but Karga beats her to it. “Well, good afternoon, (Y/N)! Marshal Dune was just telling me that you’ve made quite the impression on our buddy Mando.” Your breath shudders to a stop as you look at Cara for an explanation with moon eyes and a cocked eyebrow. Both of your companions laugh heartily, pounding the table with their fists and jostling the spotchka in their cups. 

“He won’t stop talking about you when you’re not around, he’s flustered when you are, and I had to listen to him talk about how much the baby adores you for an hour yesterday,” Cara confesses. “I suspected that he’d fallen in love, but man, is he head over heels.” Your cheeks flush and you quickly down a shot of spotchka before leaving the table again. Mando? Helmet over Beskar-clad heels? Unlikely... Unless...


	5. Din Djarin/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din’s first birthday cake. FLUFF x 100.

The familiar hiss of the gangplank lowering has you scrambling to shove candles into the “cake” (if you can even call it that) that you’ve been working on for hours. It looks more like a giant muffin because you had overfilled the tin, but as long as it tastes okay, that’s what counts... right? You murmur to yourself, silently encouraging yourself to believe that he’s going to be appreciative. And you know that he will be. He always is. 

“Hey,” his modulated voice sounds from the hull into the galley. “Where are you?” 

“Wait a second! Don’t move!” 

You scoop Grogu up from his spot in an empty flour sack and haphazardly brush him off. It’s no use; you’re both absolutely covered in flour. Balancing him on one hip and the cake in your other arm, you slowly—carefully—step into the hull. 

“What—”

You kill the lights before he can finish his sentence. The soft light of three tiny candles is all that glows in the darkness against the vessel’s steel walls. The Crest hums softly as systems continue to work, but the absence of flight makes for a quiet echochamber. You can hear your own breathing as you anticipate his response. “Happy birthday, Din!” Your cheery voice comes out too loudly and you flush, but the squeals and delighted babbling of the child quickly distract you from your embarrassing enthusiasm. But you think you hear a soft intake of air through a certain modulator. Maybe not.

“How... how did you know?” 

“Grogu told me, in his own special way. I guess he can sense it?” 

You both look to the small green bundle flailing wildly on your hip before you set him down on the floor. Slowly, cautiously, you pass the cake to Din who awkwardly holds it in front of his cuirass where the tiny flames reflect their dance across his Beskar. You tie the worn blindfold in your pocket around your eyes, causing a soft smile to creep its way onto your face. You don’t mind the dark if it means that Din can have a few moments of freedom. 

“Okay, now you have to blow them out.”

A silent minute passes before you hear the seal release on his helmet and the soft thunk of it being placed on a nearby crate. “I’ve never had one.” 

Your eyebrows furrow deeply under the confines of the cloth across your temples. “A birthday cake?” The incredulity in your voice draws a short puff of air—a chuckle—from Din. 

“Any cake.”  
You frown and toy with your fingers, suddenly becoming aware of the cake’s appearance for a second time. “It’s, uh... it’s not supposed to look like that—” you trail off with a sheepish giggle. Din lets one slip through his lips in return. 

“I think it’s beautiful,” he whispers warmly, trailing a gloved thumb across your bottom lip. 

“You haven’t tasted it yet. Now make a wish.”

Din thinks quietly about his wish, humoring your demands (as he always does), before he blows the candles out and bites at one of his index fingers, pulling the glove from his hand with his teeth. You smile as you hear him taste some of the icing in the absence of a fork. Before you can turn to grab three from the galley, an icing-covered finger swipes at your nose. You gasp, reaching out for Din but he’s already there, leaning down to kiss your sugary nose. 

“Thank you,” he says breathily. “It’s the best cake I’ve ever had.” 

“It’s the only cake you’ve—” and his lips are on yours, soft and kind. You wonder what he wished for and hope that it was something good. He deserves something good. 


End file.
